


Of coffee and other morning pleasures

by Yoite



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Apoca-didn't, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Tease (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consent Play, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Is Not A Morning Person, Crowley appreciation, Crowley's Eyes (Good Omens), Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Crowley's Snake Tongue (Good Omens), Crowley's everything really, Discussing Books While Fucking, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Crowley, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Good Omens Bingo 2021, He is a morning sex person though, I always forget the obvious tags, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Lazy Mornings, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning Sex, New Relationship, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Power Play, Prompt Fill, Rough Sex, Slice of Life, Spit As Lube, Strong Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Crowley (Good Omens), kind of, snoring, sofa sex, submissive Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoite/pseuds/Yoite
Summary: In which Aziraphale is a tease, Crowley just wanted to make coffee, and a sofa is purchased and used for non-lounging purposes.Fluffy, slightly kinky PWP. Written for Good Omens Bingo 2021 (prompt: "snoring").
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021, Top Crowley Library





	Of coffee and other morning pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I do love David Tennant and Michael Sheen to pieces, for this fic I imagined the ineffable husbands looking like (and looking at each other like) in this gorgeous artwork: https://yoite84.tumblr.com/post/643471238808879104/velaverit-another-good-omens-print-for-ax-this

Unlikely as it seemed, they had bought this sofa together. Aziraphale was mildly flabbergasted when Crowley called one day, asking if he felt like swinging by DFS to help him choose. For one, calling their tastes in interior design compatible would be like comparing the Last Supper to an all-you-can-eat wedding buffet. It also did not seem very much like Crowley to want his living space to appear even remotely liveable. Still, an afternoon of furniture shopping with the demon promised entertainment, and boy did it deliver. They must have test-sat every single cabriole, divan and chaise on the shop floor, sneaking quick kisses when no one was looking. And when everyone was looking, too. Meanwhile, the choice had been clear from the beginning: a large black leather Edwardian style roll arm sofa with polished brass claw feet. Naturally, Aziraphale insisted on getting a few beige tartan cushions to go with it, purely to coax an exasperated eye-roll out of his hereditary-enemy-turned-newly-acquired-lover.

The couch was very comfortable indeed and fitted seamlessly into what Crowley called his office, not that he did any work there, or anywhere else for that matter. The angel was lounging on it now, propped up snugly against the cushions with a copy (or, rather, the actual original) of ' _The Master and Margarita_ ' on his drawn-up knees.

It must have been close to lunchtime when Crowley finally stumbled out of the bedroom to lean in the doorway, all tousled hair and leaden eyes, yawning without bothering to cover his mouth. Aziraphale smiled, carefully resting the open tome on his chest, yellowed pages spilling out to both sides. He still wasn't quite used to seeing Crowley in the morning, or whatever the demon's stretchy definition of ' _morning_ ' was, so groggy and crumpled and stripped of at least some of his trademark cool cat swagger. In other words, utterly adorable. 

"Good morning."

Clearly, Crowley was still getting used to it himself. There was a brief flicker of relief across his face when their eyes first met, as if, somewhere deep down, he had not expected Aziraphale to be there, in his flat, on his sofa. Their sofa. As if there was a slight chance this had all been a pleasant but arguably inappropriate little dream. The angel wondered if Crowley still dreamt of Heaven, sometimes, and what it felt like to wake up. They had never brushed the topic other than in jest, but Aziraphale had a feeling that they would, one day, they each had their own trauma to process, but there was all the time in the world for that now, quite literally. 

"Angel."

"Did you have a nice sleep?"

"Mmm", Crowley purred, stretching luxuriously as he strolled over to the sofa and leaned down for a brief kiss. At least it was meant to be brief, but it lingered, and Aziraphale wasn't helping the situation when he sank a hand into the soft, long hair at the demon's neck, taking his sweet time to savour the taste of his lips. It had been at least ten hours, after all. They were caught in this strange predicament where peeling themselves off each other seemed like a genuine and persistent challenge. One that Crowley finally rose to.

"I'm gonna make coffee.. you want one of those fancy mochaccinos?"

The ridiculously over-the-top, all bells and whistles coffee machine was another new addition to Crowley's furnishings.

"That would be lovely, dear."

Aziraphale's fingertips were playing with the knuckles of Crowley's hand where it remained placed on the back of the sofa. The angel had never expected that when humans waxed lyrical about physical attraction, that wasn't actually a metaphor but a perfectly factual description of a force acting mutually between particles of matter.

Despite the promise of delicious hot beverages, Crowley did not seem to be moving anywhere just yet, leisurely surveying the angel's frame which, admittedly, was only marginally covered up by a loosely tied dressing gown.

"You really should give it a go, sleeping. It's terrific."  
  
Aziraphale wriggled a little deeper into the cushions, one hand tucked underneath his head, making himself quite comfortable under the demon's gaze. 

"Are you only saying that because you want to wake up together?" 

"No..?" Crowley pouted in mock affront, the slightest tinge of red creeping over his cheeks. "I'm just telling you, it's relaxing."

"Wouldn't be very relaxing, with you snoring", the angel bit his lip to suppress a smirk. It was just too tempting to poke Crowley in his vanity, where he was the most vulnerable, to pass up the opportunity. 

"I don't -", the demon set out to protest, then stopped himself, grinning and standing up a little straighter as he caught on. "Fine. All demons snore. That's Hell's way to make sure we can never stop with the whole being evil business, even in our sleep."

"How thoughtful of Hell."

"Yeah," Crowley placed a hand on the angel's exposed shin, eyes following its casual journey up his leg, "efficient. But I'd always make sure", the demon's warm fingers slipped underneath the thin fabric at Aziraphale's knee, sliding it down his thigh, "that you're sufficiently relaxed."

The angel shivered in anticipation when their eyes met again. This was one of his favourite parts, that first flicker of heat, like a switch that flipped to turn Crowley's slouchy devil-may-care demeanour into something entirely different, equally disarming, but with a whole new set of weaponry. Aziraphale liked it when the devil cared.

"Still, sleep is a waste of time, don't you think?"

"So is this."

Crowley's hand paused in its unhurried travels along the angel's body when it reached the book, picking it up from his chest.

"You must have read it, what, six times?"

"See, that's the delightful thing about a remarkable book", Aziraphale was watching the demon out of half closed eyes, fingers playing with the lapel of his own robe, "every time you read it, you lay bare another fascinating layer of meaning."

Somehow, they had ended up with matching waffle pique dressing gowns, one black and one off-white. Neither of them was going to admit how this came about, exactly, but Crowley sure looked scrumptious in his.

"I suppose I can never get enough of a good thing." 

"I might be persuaded."

Aziraphale shifted a little as he leaned his head to one side, into the bend of his elbow, letting his knees fall against the back of the sofa.

"Would you mind passing me my book back, dear? I thought you were making coffee.."

"Oh, you're so getting it now", Crowley muttered, snapping the tome shut, eyes ablaze. 

"Excuse me?! I need to put a bookmark -"

"No."

Without further ado, the demon placed the book onto the floor before hooking both hands under Aziraphale's knees, pulling him down from the cushions and putting him flat on his back in one sharp jerk. 

"Crowley! I was in the middle of -"

"- taking a break."

Aziraphale sucked in a breath when the demon spread his knees and climbed on top of him, removing the reading glasses from his face.

"But -"

Crowley brought their lips together, then their hands, sliding his palms over the angel's and interlacing their fingers before pulling his arms above his head. He pressed them down, not too forcefully, but firmly enough to let Aziraphale know that further protesting would not be appreciated at this point. The angel eagerly took the clue, tingling with excitement as he yielded, opening up to Crowley to allow the slow possession of his mouth. He was a quick learner, and it was in his nature to obey, not that his side had ever offered anything even half as delightful as _this_ to thank him for it.

As soon as he stopped struggling Crowley let go of one of his hands, rewarding him with a few strokes through his hair, the kind of tender touch that had him instantly on cloud nine, even though that was wildly incorrect terminology when it came to describing the precise architectural structure of Heaven.

"Such a good angel", the demon whispered fondly as he leaned away, gently pushing two fingers into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue to capture enough saliva. Aziraphale was quite certain that his former head office would have disagreed with that assessment, but Crowley's was the only praise he cared about these days.

He was gazing up at the demon's face as those wetted fingers pressed inside of him, hopelessly besotted. Crowley was gorgeous like only an angel could be, but with a depth to his beauty that only shade could provide, his sharp features framed by a mess of red hair, like licks of flames.

"I was just getting to my favourite part.. of the story", the angel mumbled incoherently, for fear of starting to babble something overly sentimental instead.

Judging by the glow in Crowley's eyes, he was also just getting to his favourite part.

"Oh yeah? What was happening?"

The demon grabbed one of Aziraphale's legs, unceremoniously hooking it over the back of the sofa as he aligned himself. 

"Margarita was just -.. hnnn.."

The angel's head rolled back against the cushions, dipped in deliciously dark fog as his ring muscle clenched around the thick head of Crowley's cock. Preparation had not been as thorough as usual, his body wasn't as ready as it normally was, which held its own special kind of thrill, dialling his senses up to eleven. 

"Come on", Crowley tilted his face back down by the chin, sliding one arm underneath him and wrapping his hand around the angel's shoulder, holding him firmly in place. "Tell me. I'd love to hear."

"She was just -.. preparing -.. to go to Satan's -.. Good Friday ball -.."

"Those are seriously overrated, if you ask me."

The demon gave him just enough time to adjust before he pushed in all the way with one assertive stroke, making Aziraphale cry out and twist in his arms. For a brief moment he was overwhelmed, the lack of proper lubrication making the friction much more intense, but Crowley's soft mouth on his neck provided just the right counterweight to stop the sensation from tipping over into anything other than intoxicating. Not that Aziraphale had ever felt in any danger that the demon might push him over the edge of what he could take.

"What then?" Crowley settled into an easy rhythm, which nevertheless made the angel's body sing and dance with every thrust. He gaped at his lover in disbelief, every inch of his body covered in hot, salty sweat. Surely Crowley did not expect him to keep up the plot summary while they were misusing their new sofa? Unless he did. And it was entirely the angel's own fault.

"Keep talking", the demon hissed, eyes like two balls of fire centred around thin fragments of black coal, "I want to hear your voice while I'm making love to you."

".. then -.. ooh -..", Aziraphale moaned, feeling his brain disintegrate as Crowley took the pace up a notch, pushing his legs further apart, as if he wasn't deep enough already, ".. Azazello -.. brought her -.. hn -.. the magic cream -.. so she could fly-ah .." 

"Oh, yeah, that definitely sounds like something Azazael would do, the old perv."

"Haa!"

Aziraphale's hands were desperately grasping for the nearest piece of Crowley they could find as his body was throbbing and surging with electricity. Sex wasn't usually this wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of affair, but he wasn't about to complain that Crowley took him from zero to melting point in five minutes straight. The damn serpent was in just the right place, at the right time, all the time. 

He tried to push himself up to stifle his gasps into Crowley's lips, but the demon pulled out of reach, pinning both of his wrists above his head with one firm hand.

"Uh-uh. I said.. I want to hear you."

Aziraphale sobbed as heat started rippling out from his core where Crowley's cock was rubbing against the sweet spot inside him with determination. The demon's voice dropped lower, like a caress.

"Keep looking at me."

The angel complied for as long as he could, staring into Crowley's eyes as he exploded in slow motion, being held down as he was orgasming making the ecstasy even more mind-boggling, somehow. Until it wiped him out completely and he screwed up his face, unable to soften the scream that escaped him, this being the only outlet the demon had allowed him. 

He wasn't even close to coming down yet when Crowley let go of his wrists and seized his head between his palms, kissing him furiously in-between breathless pants. Aziraphale did not hesitate to use his new-found freedom to dig his fingers just below the base of Crowley's spine, feeling the demon's hips snap forward feverishly underneath his hands. These days, the angel liked to keep his nails longer than what he was used to.

He could almost taste Crowley's groan when the sensation of the demon's tongue splitting in two inside his mouth pushed him onto a startling second spike of pleasure, propelling him even higher. 

Aziraphale was still soaring for quite some time after Crowley had stopped moving, before he started floating down little by little to the feeling of the demon's lips softly brushing his. 

He was so dazed, wrapped into this beautiful afterglow, that it took him a while to realise that Crowley had said the 'L' word. Well, not exactly, 'making love to you' was not the same as 'I love you', but still, they never said the 'L' word, it was a tacit agreement. Being in love was new, but loving each other was so old it hardly needed to be said out loud, it would be plain silly to use such flat, human words to define what they had. Ridiculous. Aziraphale really felt like being ridiculous right now. But he chose to say something else instead.

"What was all of that about", he whispered, keeping his eyes comfortably closed. "I was just lying here, reading my book.."

"Oh no, Angel", Crowley gave a warm, guttural laugh against his lips, "you don't get to play the innocence card, not anymore. You're lucky I was about to make coffee", the demon kissed an unhurried path across to his ear, "and I really, _really_ want my coffee, or you wouldn't have gotten away so easily."

Aziraphale grinned blissfully as Crowley's mouth moved down his frame, licking him clean. He still could not quite believe how lucky he was. He had about four billion years left on this wonderful little planet for Crowley to keep doing all of these amazing things to his body. Unless humans did something really stupid, of course, like killing off all the bees, or re-electing Trump for another term. And who knew what was going to happen after Earth expired, it was a big universe, as Crowley liked to say.

Aziraphale cracked his eyes open just a tad as the demon got up from the sofa.

"You can go back to reading now", Crowley smirked down at him as he tied the belt of his dressing gown. "I'll get you that coffee."

"But I lost my spot", the angel pouted, not bothering to rearrange his own robe. "You didn't even let me put a bookmark in -"

Crowley rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, snipping his fingers. The book fluttered open where it lay on the floor, a blur of paper and ink, until it came to a rest on the appropriate page. 

"Oh! You noticed where I -"

"There is nothing about you I don't notice, Angel."

Aziraphale stared after him as Crowley walked off into the kitchen, so full to the brim with love he wasn't sure there was any space in him left for that mochaccino.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't quite sure how to tag this, let me know please if you feel like a tag is missing and/or unnecessary.
> 
> Please drop me a note if you enjoyed this :).
> 
> (P.S.: If you are subscribed to my "Ducks and Bees" fic, I swear, I AM working on it.. but my brain just keeps showering me with smutty ideas.)


End file.
